Homeward Bound
by Cat 2
Summary: In an different Universe, the Mice's journey to Earth is not so smooth. this is my first attempt at a Biker Mice fan fic, so please R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own these mice. Most are products of their own creation, but Chopper was inspired by Sewer Slider.

Reviews help me write quicker, enjoy

Homeward Bound.

Chapter 1 It Is Better To Journey Hopefully Than To Arrive.

On the fourth day, he couldn't swallow. Or wouldn't, there wasn't enough light in the pit for Chopper to see his face. She ended up rubbing some of the small amount of water their captors gave them around his lips and hoping he could still lick it off.

"How long?" she hadn't heard Throttle come up behind her, but turning she could just make out his glasses. Maybe it was surprise that made her answer honestly,

"Two days, maybe less." Throttle nodded.

"If he can't take it tomorrow, stop trying."

Chopper opened her mouth to protest, but stopped. There was no argument really. They needed the food. Carbine was pregnant, and the others were severely malnourished.

She moved over to Vinnie. His forehead was warm, and his chest sounded bad. All she could do was pray that it was not Camp fever. If it was he was doomed, and she didn't think she could bear to tell Throttle that one of his bros was...

She didn't realise she was shaking until she felt Rimfire's arms around her.

"It's O.K." he muttered.

She shook her head, burying it in to his fur.

"We're still alive and we're still fighting." He said, equally softly. "If nothing else it's a start."

She nodded and gently stepped apart from him, just as Modo voice exclaimed from somewhere in the darkness,

"What the...?"

Two seconds later all 8 of the pits occupants were thrown against the wall.

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Charley groaned and used her entire vocabulary of curses up against the truck driver. The guy had run a red light, and sent her flying, completely creaming her bike.

As she tried to get to her feet, a bolt of pain, shot up from her leg and down from her head, and she fell back.

She decided that she must have been hit harder than she thought, as she could have sworn that she saw 8 huge mice, dragging them out of the back of the ruined truck.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Everyone still alive?" Throttle asked, his voice shaking, as he leant over to help Carbine up.

"Yeah," Vinnie said, not much better off than his bro. "Modo, how're about you?"

"I'm fine," he said softly. Chopper and Rimfire both reported in unharmed and a soft moan from Stroker confirmed he was still alive. Glancing around Chopper quickly located Brake and Rimmer, the two children who'd been with them.

"Not hurt, just shaken." She said, after checking them over.

Throttle nodded. "We should get to cover. Don't know whether it was a road side or...?"

Chopper however interrupted, "Now that we know everyone's O.K., where are we?"

The mice all looked around. The place was like nothing they'd ever seen. Huge grey buildings towered over them, under a blue sky, which was definitely not Martian.

"Brimstone?" Rimfire suggested uncertainly.

"Brimstone never looked like this, even in its heyday."Stoker gasped out, having evidently gained some strength from adenine.

"Doesn't matter where are!" Carbine said. "Throttle's right. We should get to..."

A soft groan made them all spin around.

"What by the great mouse name is that?" chopper asked.

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O.K. now she knew she'd hit her head harder than she meant to. Because otherwise there was a dirty white mouse with pink eyes bending over her. Half his face was hidden by a metal mask and he had antenna.

"Vinnie!" a high pitched voice called, and another mouse, a female she thought ran over. She was slightly smaller than the other one, and a dirty reddish colour. She also seemed to be missing half of her right ear. The two mice seemed to be having a conversation she couldn't understand. Well she said conversation, but argument would be more accurate.

"Throttle!" the female was calling for back up. Suddenly other mice swan into view. They quickly joined in the argument.

O.k. enough was enough. She needs to get out of here quickly. As she again tried to rise, the reddish female placed her hand on her chest forcing her back.

Charley couldn't understand the words, but the argument was clear. Lie still.

Another of them, a huge brown rat like thing, seemed to be in a great deal of pain, yanked off a filthy jacket he was wearing, and spread it over her.

"Stoker!" the female began, frustrated, but the others were following suit. With a sigh, the female held out her hands and, taking two belts like structures from the white mouse, proceeded to bind Charley injured leg, to the uninjured one.

O.K. if this was a hallucination, it felt horrible real.

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"Martians! Honest to god Martians!" the ambulance crew were apparently as surprised as Charley at the police statement.

"What were they doing here?" Charley asked, as she was lifted into the ambulance.

"They're been moved." The policeman answered. "The invaders, Plutarkains, have been moving them in their thousands." He shrugged "no one is sure why."  
"What'll happen to them?" asked Charley, watching as the mice were shepherded into the police car.

"They'll be taken to a refugee facility." The ambulance said reassuringly. "They'll be quite safe."

Charley nodded, as she was lifted into the ambulance.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Chapter 2

The refugee facility looked like what it was. A hastily converted church hall filled to bursting point. Mice of every age were crammed in. Some were standing in a long line for food. Some were lying on camp beds, or on the floor, too weak to move. Children of every age and description ran around the place, occasionally with parental shouts to attempt to control them. The whole place was too hot and stank to high heaven.

"Names?" the irritating man on desk duty repeated. Charley fought to keep her temper. She had been here for over an hour, and was no nearer completing her mission than when she started.

"Vinnie, Throttle..." there had been a third one whose name escaped her.

The man shook his head

"Those names are scarcely uncommon here. Their clan names might be helpful."  
"I don't know them." Charley admitted, still racking her brain for the third mouse's name. "We weren't formally introduced. I had an accident; they helped me and gave me their jackets." She lifted the bags containing the well worn jackets, now washed and dried. Suddenly it came to her.

"Wait there was a guy called Stoker with them."  
The man's face froze, and then changed into a mask of fury.

"This is not funny, Ms Davison! Stoker is dead! He was murdered on Mars! I have no idea what stunt you're trying to pull, but I must request that you leave." He turned away furiously.

Charley was about to leave, cursing the guy under her breath, when a small hand grabbed her arm. Looking up she saw belonged to a young female grey skinned mouse, who kept look fugitively about her.

"If you're after the mice that came in yesterday, they haven't been processed yet; they're in the little building."

Then she was gone, vanishing back into the sea of her own people.

Little building? Suddenly Charley remembered the small hall she had passed on her way in. She quickly left and made her way into the hall.

If the big hall stank to high heaven, this smaller one could encompass heaven, hell and earth in one foul stench. There was no bathroom or washing facilities, except a bucket that looked like it was in danger of over flowing. The 8 mice she remembered from the other night were crouched in one corner.

By the light they looked vaguely pathetic, their fur matted, with blood, sweat, oil and dirt hanging off them. They were thin as rakes, bones that looked broken sticking out at odd angles.

"They're waiting for me to die." The voice came from an elbow. She was talking to the Mouse, who had first given her his jacket. The one they had called Stoker. She could look at him more clearly now.

He was thin to the point of bones poking through his skin. His bones were oddly shaped, partly broken, partly malformed. His...snort, she supposed, was elongated, more so than the others. His breathing was tense and uneven. The brown eyes that gazed up at her were bright with fever and full of pain.

"Why?" she asked, kneeling down next to him.

"I prove them a liar. They say Stoker died on Mars." He shrugged. "Yet I live. For now. So they allow my broths to suffer." He gazed desperately at the others.

"Calbine pregnant." He said the pain in his voice both physical and emotional. "She needs food, clean conditions, and a doctor's care. Vinnie may have the camp fever. Chopper doesn't know I know. I heard her pleading with them." He jerked his head in the direction of the Hall. "More mercy in the Plutarkians." The anger in his voice was intense.

Charley glanced around the room, looking at the mice. They looked so defeated. She spent the morning researching Mars on the internet. The accounts of the Plutarkians' atrocities were horrific. And the strength of the Freedom Fighters were inspirational. The names she had heard had come up. She had never suspected that they were the same. And they had never given up.

Now they gazed up at her, merely waiting the killing blow.

"Ms. Davison I must protest. This area is off limits!" the fussy little man from the Hall had entered. Something in Charley snapped.

"Tell the others to grab their gear!" she barked at Stoker. "You're coming with me."


End file.
